Swimming In Pea Soup

I am having difficulty concentrating lately. I keep trying to identify the problem, the issue, whatever it was that was causing this “condition.”

I normally run at pretty high speeds mentally while manipulating a freeform visualization of such complexity that it some days it rivals the global internet. Right now, I am finding it difficult to remember what day it is and why just now I walked into the kitchen. To say it is frustrating is putting it mildly.

I have been sleeping in the middle of the day, glorious naps that do not interfere too much with my regular sleeping. Even my dreams have been below the surface, almost undecipherable from external sounds at waking. I finally was able to write out a dream late last week, but I was unable to “think” about it till today.

The dream image was of a beloved sleeping woman in the midst of a play in the woods. The man who had the role of King in the play pledged his undying love to her and refused all other women. And there she lay, sleeping … underwater.

I was alarmed at the image. “No healthy animus figure would prefer me unconscious,” I shouted from the page angrily. But then … I thought about the last week, and my inability to focus or concentrate. “What if, …” I muttered to no one in particular.

My inner contacts confirmed my suspicions. I am supposed to be exactly where I am at the moment. It feels … yeah … like I am swimming through pea soup. But until I wrote this, I wonder if anyone could tell it. I have been running on autopilot, which from the outside may look normal to most folks.

But I know deep inside, something is stirring below the surface. And apparently, I need to allow it to gestate undisturbed for now.

So if you find yourself staring into deep waters anytime soon, that play of light you see, its me waving at ya’ from the bottom.